


Roach the Red-Nosed Reindeer

by star-gazer (beta_omega)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Christmas fic better late than never, M/M, Modern Setting, Pre-Relationship, Roach is a brown Newfoundland, single parent jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28556280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beta_omega/pseuds/star-gazer
Summary: A very Covid Christmas has Geralt spending the holiday alone so what's a man with a draft dog to do but deliver presents to his daughter?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Roach the Red-Nosed Reindeer

**Author's Note:**

> Knowledge of draft dogs is not necessary, I hope, to enjoy.

You're doing this for Ciri, he has to remind himself for the third time. It's harder now to keep up the mantra now that his coffee has run empty and his handwarmers gone cold. Miserable dollar store things. If he'd known in advance that he would be out in the cold for this long, he would have sprung for something from the outdoor store.

But that's just the thing.

He hadn't known he would be out here at all.

You're doing this for Ciri.

At least Roach seems to take it all in stride, more than happy to be out in her element doing her thing. 

Because Ciri had begged and begged and begged until he had relented. He'd known the second she blinked up at him that he would agree to whatever he asked.

He had just hoped it wouldn't be this miserably cold when the time came to pay his dues.

It's worth it though, even if not just for the joy of seeing his daughter's smile for Christmas when she waves at him through the window, but for the joy of every other kid who rushes out from their homes to say hello.

This isn't him, not normally. Not that he makes a habit of dressing up in a Santa suit and taking his dog for a walk in a neighborhood that isn't his. But what is normal anyway right now?

It was such an easy thing to do when Ciri asked him if he would still come by with a present when Yen had tested positive. They weren't worried, she was still asymptomatic, but unfortunately their plans of a Christmas together had to be scrapped. They weren't worried, but they weren't going to take any unnecessary risks with Geralt's health. Geralt would spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day alone, and really, he would be okay, he would.

He shouldn't have expected her to be fine with it too.

And she hadn't been.

Which is why he's out here. Walking in the cold. Dressed in red and white polyester, a fake beard making it that much harder to breathe through his mask. Roach, his ever faithful companion, not even grudgingly but happily dressed as a reindeer complete with antlers and sleigh behind her.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder to the kids of the last family, three boys still in their pajamas with candy canes hanging out of their mouths, he thinks, yeah, the cart was worth the investment. Next year, he'll have to decorate it more, maybe put a little more thought into his outfit, something warmer.

And it's crazy to think he wants to do this again. He hopes he won't have to though. He hopes next year he gets to spend Christmas with his kid, no masks between them. For his sake and the sake of every other parent struggling through the ramifications of the various stay-at-home orders.

He shivers again, and not all of it is due to the cold.

Not much further to the truck now.

He turns the corner and reaches up to yank the beard off his face when a disgruntled _squawk_ startles him into freezing.

Wide, golden eyes track the sound to a man he can only describe as positively affronted, standing on his porch, a steaming mug of hot chocolate on the wide railing. He's dressed in the most ridiculous elf costume. Or onesie, he can't be sure. Though it doesn't detract from the bright, attractive blue of his eyes, nor the sleep-toussled mop of brown hair. He looks like he just dragged himself out of bed no more than a few minutes ago. Must be why the mug is still steaming and full. Too hot yet for drinking.

A cough snaps him out of his staring, and a pointed look to his side drags Geralt's eyes down, to the little boy half-tucked behind the man's obnoxiously red and green sleep pants. Good lord, he's even wearing red slippers that have little bells attached to the toes.

And Geralt had considered himself committed to the charade. Fool that he is.

Ah. Fuck.

"Are you Santa Claus?" The boy asks.

"I am, yes, and a ho ho ho and a very Merry Christmas to you," Geralt answers him with a smile he knows the boy can't see through the mask and the beard, but he's told that it comes through in his eyes if he smiles hard enough.

It's always a genuine smile for the kids, less often for the adults, but something about tonight has it coming more easily.The kids of today don't deserve any of this, this trauma that he knows they won't even fully understand the effects of for many years. It is a little thing to dress up and bring them a little Christmas cheer. A little thing indeed to fall into an easy conversation with the boy, who slowly, cautiously creepys forward to sit on the top step to list off all the things he hopes for this Christmas.

Regrettably none of them are things he can promise, but a quick glance upwards finds eyes with wrinkles around him. A soft smile hidden beneath a red and white candy cane striped mask to match with the boy's. The man leans against the railing, eyeing his mug but not taking it.

Eventually the boy begins to yawn, his mask nearly slipping off his nose, and Geralt offers, as he's done for every child he's visited before him, a candy cane from the cart basket (but only after sanitizing his hands! He pulls out a bottle from inside his coat) and the chance to pet his most trusted reindeer, who until now has remained in a down-stay on the sidewalk, half-asleep despite the steady blind of the fake antlers on her head. She lurches into a stand as soon as she is mentioned, her tail swishing behind her and jiggling the strands of lights he's looped around the cart shafts. The boy's laughter fills the chilly night when she licks a long stripe up the side of his face.

Another glance upwards and he's nearly breathless at the _adoration_ in the man's crystalline eyes. Not at the boy, but at him. If he strains, above the sound of giggling and the soft huffs of air from Roach in the background, he hears a whispered, "Thank you."

He wants to ask what for, but he calls the boy back to his side, Dara, reminding him to brush his teeth before bed. He takes the candy away with the promise of returning it to him in the morning.

He wishes him another Merry Christmas and then the boy is gone, disappearing behind the door with a soft click and the thump of little feet on the staircase inside. The man doesn't follow, but he does walk over to his mug.

He raises it to his lips, an eyebrow cocked. "Do you mind if I? Surely you being down there, we're socially distanced enough."

"Go ahead," and fuck if his voice cracks a little, suddenly hoarse, then the man has the graciousness to comment on it.

"It's good of you to do this."

"How'd you know to be out here?"

The man laughs and it's a sound that Geralt wouldn't mind hearing more of.

"Oh, you know, someone posts on Next Door that there's a Santa Claus in the neighborhood with an actual reindeer and sleigh, of course we had to check it out." He takes a long gulp of the cocoa, eyes fluttering as he drinks in the warmth. Geralt has to swallow hard to keep his throat from closing up again. "Actually Dara's friend, Ciri, up the street sent him a picture of your dog a few minutes ago. But still, glad I checked Next Door. Didn't expect you to visit the whole neighborhood."

"Figured I might as well after going through the effort for her. She's not the only one who needed it."

"No, I suppose not. Dara's not mine, I mean, he is, he is mine, in every way, and I wouldn't give him up for the world, but it’s been a year. It really has been. This is his first Christmas with me. So, I guess, what, um. What I'm trying to say is thank you. Thank you for making it special for him, for us."

He can't unstick the lump in his throat enough to speak so he just nods and looks back to Roach who's just standing there waiting patiently for her next directions, and he doesn't deserve her. He pats her on the head, grinning under his own mask when she leans her head against his thigh with a happy grunt.

"So, you doing anything for Valentine's Day? Just saying it might be cute to have her deliver candy-grams," the man suggests with a wink, hiding his smirk behind another sip of his cocoa.

Geralt shivers and this time it's definitely not because of the cold.

"Hadn’t planned on it. And to be honest," and it feels like a reach, but the good thing about masking is that the stranger can't see the way he bites his lip, the expressions he makes trying to decide if this is worth the risk, but he thinks, hopes that it is, that it will be, "I don't know how I would decorate her cart for the occasion. But _maybe_ someone could help me."

Fuck, he hopes he's not misread the situation. Dara's not being his, like he's acquired a child through less than desirable means says enough, but so too do the lines that surround those bright baby blues. He's seen them up close on his own face in the first few weeks, fuck, _months_ of Ciri coming into his care. It's easier now with Yen to help, but still, nothing can ever be ideal from children losing their biological families. But he knows those lines, the lines and wrinkles of a single parent.

"I _have_ been told I have a flair for color. I'd be delighted to help."

His fingers shake, but the man spares him the hassle of having to type for himself when instead he asks for Geralt's number to enter into his own phone.

Only when he's finished rattling off the numbers do their eyes lock again, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

"Shit," the man laughs, "here I am inviting you into my home under the pretense of cart decorating and I don't even know your name."

"Geralt, and I'm holding you to it, the decorating, I mean." _And maybe other things if I'm reading this right_. Something like a spark flashes in the other man's eyes, and no, he thinks he's got it exactly right. "Your name?"

Shaking himself out of his own daze, he licks his lips, smirking when he notices the gold eyes that track the motion. "Jaskier. A pleasure to meet you, Geralt."

A _ping_ punctuates the statement, and Geralt simply smiles back. It feels like pulling against a black hole to step away from the porch. It’s not exactly that much warmer under the shelter, but he can feel the cold so much more when he's out of Jaskier’s immediate orbit.

"I'll text you," he promises, guiding Roach back onto the sidewalk properly.

"I look forward to it."

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

A wave and a nod and Geralt turns back down the street. His fingers fumble through undoing the buckles of Roach's harness when they finally reach the truck. Pleased with the opportunity to work, she leaps onto the backseat without prompting, curling up to doze while Geralt straps down the cart in the bed. Good carts don't come cheap and he doesn't fancy the thought of replacing it any sooner than he has to. The drive back home across town is short, it's not that big a town after all, but here it abuts the mountainside, the homes more spread out. Few people here concern themselves with stringing up lights every year, but the bright twinkle of colored lights decorating the trees in the windows are a good concession.

Once Roach is all settled and fed a small dinner after her long haul, the cart carefully brought inside and checked over, he slides under the covers and swipes open his phone.

_New text from Unknown Number: I hope you like glitter! 😜💖🤩🦄_

_New text from Unknown Number: this is jaskier btw_

_New text from Unknown Number: hope you didn't get too many numbers this Xmas eve, not that I would blame any of them, you make a good Santa 😉😉😉 but really thank you for doing that, made a lot of kids very happy, ill have to show you the m3ssages on nectdoor sometime, anyway nigt!_

As he rolls over to set his phone on the charger, he is already groaning at the thought of having to thank Eskel for convincing him to drag out the cart to deliver Ciri's presents.

But it was worth it.

That he got a date for his efforts is just the cherry on top.

**Author's Note:**

> So I have not necessarily drafting breeds but drafting dogs. Look up dog carting and enjoy.
> 
> We actually did hitch up the dogs and walk the neighborhood to deliver candy on Christmas Eve....I didn't get a nice guy out of it though.


End file.
